


Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a few seconds, but he manages, his eyebrow raising in question as he turns towards her.</p>
<p>She can’t help but grin at the picture it makes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to **itsalwaysfour** and **lazyevening** for the fantastic prompt and **effie214** for the title help.
> 
> Aforementioned title is taken from the Eurythmics song of the same name.

“I don’t know...” She considers the newest home of the end table, her legs crossed in front of her, his shirt a makeshift pillow against the hard floor. “No, no, more to the left.”

Sighing, she smiles as he leans forward, the muscles in his back twisting deliciously as he effortlessly moves the table.

“Well?” 

“No, maybe closer to the couch.”

He doesn’t even straighten—which, she can’t lie, was part of her intention—his arms flexing as he scoots the table two feet to the right.  
  
"I think...” She leans back against the wall, her fingers splaying over her thigh as she considers. “I think that works. I’m not sure about the ottoman now though; it looks like it’s trying to run away.” 

“Like Laertes the day we got him?”

“He wasn’t used to his leash.” 

Nodding, he grins, quickly shifting the ottoman closer to the nearest armchair. 

Her brow furrows in immediate response, teeth tugging at her lower lip. “Try next to the bookcase; we can pull it forward when we want to use it.” 

It takes a few seconds, but he manages it, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyebrow raising in question as he turns towards her. 

She can’t help but grin at the picture: the still out-of place ottoman, the paint swatches taped to the wall behind him, and her shirtless partner surrounded by books. 

For no other reason than she’d asked him to be. 

It sends competing waves of heat and happiness rushing down her spine, coursing through her. 

“...can’t understand how this can be so hard. I only brought one piece of furniture when I moved in.”

“I don’t think indoor hammocks are technically furniture. It’s ok though...” She bites the inside of her cheek as his dimples appear, his mouth curving slightly as his knee rests against the ottoman. “You brought plenty of other important things...” 

Her gaze drifts up his legs, over his defined abs, the cheeky smile lighting his face, her breath catching as their eyes meet. 

“I want this place to be _ours_.” 

“Yeah...” If at all possible, his smile becomes even warmer, happiness and laughter and love dancing in his eyes, playing in the line of his jaw, the movement of his hands. “I do, too.” 

“Good, now butt the ottoman against the arm of the couch.” 

Laughing, he lifts the stool, carefully carrying it halfway across the room. “You’re lucky there wasn’t any pressing business today.” 

“Who do you think cleared the schedule? We deserve a weekend off and Ray was happy to push the conference back to next week, something about his IT department and substandard renderings and—” 

“Did you even offer an excuse?”

“I may have implied that Applied Sciences got that stomach flu and that _you_ may have caught it as well...” 

“Me and your entire department?” He shakes his head, fakes a cough. 

“Yes, that works.” Pressing her lips together, she tilts her head to the side. “So does this; come look.” 

He quickly crosses the rest of the room, turns in a half circle. “Yeah, I think that—” 

The words die in laughter as she catches his hand and tugs him down to her, their legs tangling together as he lands with a startled groan. 

It’s forgotten instantly though as her hands smooth up his back, flatten against his shoulders, her mouth urgently covering his.  

Propping himself up on his elbow, he grins against her, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt as he deepens the kiss. 

It’s too many things to name at once. 

Comfort and heat and love and...

Home. 

They’re home. 

Sighing, he pulls her closer, traces a Q on her lower back as her knees presses to his side and she moans against his jaw while—

They roll into the coffee table. 

“Ok, maybe that should be moved to—” 

“Mmm, later...” He cups her cheek, presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Busy now...” 


End file.
